


Smoke and Mirrors

by Nelial (Cennis)



Category: Hyakujitsu no Bara | Maiden Rose
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cennis/pseuds/Nelial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Klaus lingered at the door after every session, eyes clouded and grin plastic, words on the edge of his tongue but bitten back, made it evident how far the fractures were spiderwebbing out of his control. /KlausxTaki/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

The clash of blades resonated within the iron-walled room, the tempo growing progressively faster as the minutes crawled forward. To anyone looking on, they'd have thought they were dancing. Their feet moved with a practised grace, movements fluid and almost magnetized, each step one took to distance, the other closed without a moments hesitation. If it weren't for the savage swings of the katana, it could almost be called playful, the way they moved with each other.

There was no denying the forcefulness behind each thrust of the sword, however.

Sweat dampening his brow, Taki lunged forward once more, grip on the hilt tightening. His breaths were coming in pants now, but he didn't slow down. After all, Klaus himself was barely out of breath, and faltering now was unacceptable.

It had been a fortnight since Klaus' near-death, two weeks since Taki had brought him back from the brink himself, the literal kiss of life. It had been exactly that long since Taki had last felt Klaus' touch.

" _Don't worry. I won't lay hands on your body anymore."_

Just like Klaus, really. Making every decision for himself, selfishly choosing whatever suited him best at the drop of a hat. Even when he thought he was doing something for Taki's sake, it was all Klaus, _another thrust of the blade,_ Klaus, _and another,_ Klaus, _and another_.

Wasn't he supposed to be the Master? Yet why was he always beneath Klaus' control, his whims? Even the decision itself that led to Klaus' brush with mortality had never really been his. His giving his consent, his giving his Knight the order, it was all just formality. Klaus had already decided he was going into No Man's Land, after all.

Taki knew his anger had less to do with Klaus' bullheadedness and more with the decision itself, but he was choosing to forget reasons and just focus on the anger burning deep in his chest.

Klaus did nothing but make him angry. He was his Knight; Knight's should be obedient to every command – _no, he didn't need yet another yes-man –_ and not look for loopholes in his every word – _but you always pick your words so carefully, aren't you making the loopholes too easy to find?_

The sparring had been his idea. It was certainly a practical idea. After his injury, Klaus needed to get back into the swing of things. A Division Commander should never let himself grow rusty. There were plenty of people amongst his men he could have chosen as his partner, but he knew they would pose no real challenge, either too unskilled or too sentimental to raise their blade to him with serious intent. Besides, it seemed unfair to vent his irritation on anyone but the source.

"Getting tired?" Klaus was acting no different to his usual self, on the surface. Same confidence in his swagger, same shit-eating grin. However, someone who knew what to look for could see that something was different in the man, and Taki was hunting for those signs.

It was plain as day that Klaus was keeping to his word, in the most specific sense. For two weeks, there had not been so much as a brush of hands or graze of shoulders. In fact, Klaus had been meticulous in keeping a sizeable distance between them, painful in its starkness.

Taki was playing with fire, he knew. He could _feel_ it, like someone had a hand grasped tightly around his throat, actual physical pain with every forced step between them.

Once upon a time, he had longed for it. Even now, with every part of him screaming to reach out and take his hand – _hell, anything so long as there's his warmth –_ he was a little glad. Space was good. Space was right. Taki was never meant to touch, he was never meant to feel. Every time Klaus had invaded him in the worst of ways, his mind had been filled with the fear of being found, being disgraced even further. If things had carried on the way they had been going, it was inevitable that it would all come to light.

So where was the overwhelming relief? The gladness, that microscopic gladness, was just an echo. More a shadow in his mind, what he knew he _should_ have felt now that the entire thing was over.

No. Instead of feeling relieved, he chose to bait the bear. Or wolf, in this case.

"No talking," Taki barked, more venomous than the words deserved to be. Klaus just let his grin grow that much wider, parrying Taki's blade with ease.

At least when they sparred, it was that much harder for Klaus to keep away. Every now and then, when Taki darted forward at the right moment, he could almost feel the heat radiating from the other man's body.

He wasn't being fair. Klaus had finally taken heed of all of Taki's panted and moaned protests, the borderline begs to _stop!_ Sure, it had taken raping him into a state of comatose, but better late than never. So why was he doing this? He could concoct perfectly plausible explanations about keeping a recovering Klaus on his toes and wanting to keep in top form himself, but the one man who needed to believe such reasoning was the one who could see right through it.

He was being a fucking tease and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. He'd become so used to the touches being forced upon him no matter how hard he protested that he didn't want any of it, he was... he was _cold._

In all honesty, it wasn't the sex, as one-sided as it was, that he was missing, needing, craving. On the days when Klaus had been in a better mood, and Taki had not shot from the room the first chance he got, there'd be a lull in the chaos and they'd just lie there together. No words, the lust satiated for a while, just them and their dirty little secret. Sometimes Klaus would collect Taki in his arms and they'd fall asleep entangled in one another. Those were his favourite moments.

Taki knew that if he continued these sparring sessions, continued to try and steal whatever slight touch he could, then Klaus' already fracturing resolution would crumble and they'd once again descend into that sordid affair. The way Klaus lingered at the door after every session, eyes clouded and grin plastic, words on the edge of his tongue but bitten back, made it evident how far the fractures were spiderwebbing out of his control.

Yet Taki knew he wouldn't stop. Not while he could still steal the slightest hint of warmth.


End file.
